


{ you make me feel so nothing }

by flambee



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Angst, F/M, One-Sided Relationship, POV Second Person, Self-Hatred, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 13:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11555805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flambee/pseuds/flambee
Summary: i'm sorry for the trouble, i suppose





	{ you make me feel so nothing }

.

 

.

 

.

 

You were the flower.

 

The flower of the family, the hope, the one who was going to make it. A beautiful daisy with dainty petals so pure, innocent, in a field of thorns - you were the flower.

 

Slow, you make your ascent to madness.

 

Your dress already around your ankles by the mid-step, bra hanging from a finger by the final. You smell like bitters and sweat, and the tears fresh stars in your tired eyes.

 

Every part of you was worthless, deemed worthless by the only other person in the universe.

 

He was the sun, and you were the clouds. Heavy and dripping, bright and shining. Your heart wept in the palm of your hands, mourning the loss of an important constellation. He _was_ the sun, but never _yours_ . He _was_ the sun, but the sun shone no more.

 

You scrubbed away the smudged makeup over the porcelain sink, the cuts stinging at touch. Your cheeks were swollen, your tongue was bitten.

 

Even now his words still struck the crumpling strings of your fragile heart, on replay because you had a record player in your mind.

 

_You’re the reason why I’m like this. You’re the reason why I’m so miserable!_

 

 _Everything you do, everything you_ did _to me, it messed me up, and I can’t trust you._

 

_It was a mistake to give you a second chance._

 

You were playing violin with broken strings, and loving with an ink mouth. Everything you said spilled black like the night sky, and nothing good could ever come of you.

 

If you made such ugly feelings in the person who had captured your heart and left it to die, were you ever worth loving at all? Were you merely a weed, the Singapore daisy, yellow drowning out in the green?

 

You began to peel back your skin, to your bones. You cleaned every inch of your body, from the inside and out. Your rings, earrings, clumped together in the bottom of the sink, metal on metal. Each strand of hair you meticulously drowned in soap, and you dreamed of changing your name to something so beautiful that Rin would have to be burned, never spoken of again.

 

But no matter how deep you scraped, you scrubbed, you wiped, no matter how much you flushed out your organs with a bottle of soap, the ugly remained like a stain, a scar, and everyone could see it - everyone knew.

 

You would weep for days and he wouldn’t even care about the damage he inflicted upon that daisy-like body of yours. It was already long damaged and he saw you as nothing but a scratching post, as he always did, always will, because in the end, you and the world knew that you could never reach the sun without being burnt to a crisp.

 

He was so far from you, and to him, you were just another number - another parasite on the surface of Earth - for he already had the planets he loved so dear; you were unworthy to shine light upon.

 

You were a mistake, a mistake that made mistakes, and all you ever did were mistakes, and all you ever would be was a mistake. And you knew that, and it hurt, but you could do nothing at all, because in truth, you were no flower and you never would be.

 

You were no flower; you were human, and humans could not fall in love with stars, so unpredictable and dangerous. Even from your safe, blue orb, he still charred your skin.

 

And you loved the burn, because it was the only attention he’d ever give you.


End file.
